


look in your eyes 'til I see there's something about me

by notthebigspoon



Series: Amaryllis [13]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe Hunter's worrying too much but when he's walking into a months-established relationship, he can't help but wonder if he's just a shiny new toy, fresh out of the package that they can't help but get excited about and play with.</p><p>Title taken from Do You Know? by Enrique Iglesias.</p>
            </blockquote>





	look in your eyes 'til I see there's something about me

Hunter wants to flick Buster Posey's ear. He wants to bat at Lincecum's hair. He wants to put Melky in a headlock. He wants everybody in the world to be as happy as he is right now. Not just because of last night and this morning but because he'd been bickering with the guys in the visitors clubhouse and he'd heard Hensley say very nearly the same thing that Romo had said at breakfast.

“Aw man, they _got_ to him.”

“Whodawa?” Lopez had asked, voice muffled as he'd pulled his jersey on and hey, Hunter didn't know people actually said that other than him. Awesome.

“The outfielders and Ryan! They got to Pence. Jesus, he's one of them now.”

Vogelsong had gripped Hunter's shoulders and shaken him with a grin, chanting “One of us, one of us.”

He finds himself looking at the others that little bit closer during BP and when the game is starting, picking and nudging and shoving and noogies. He's not immune to the abuse, dragged into it whenever he's close enough and he finds that settling, grounding. He's part of this now. Giants outfielders are like sea monkeys. Pour water on 'em, boom, instant friends.

Though, he notes, Cabrera doesn't touch Blanco and Pagan like they touch each other. He touches them (and Hunter) just as much and in a lot of the same places but it's not the same way, not as intimate. Except for offering Hunter gum and shoving it into his mouth and getting his fingers _in Hunter's mouth_ but that seems to be something he's doing just because he can. Hunter sputters and slaps at him, flushing when Vogey tells them to stop flirting.

But Angel and Gregor. They brush against each other and there's almost secret smiles. Pagan drags Hunter into a one armed hug and shakes him a little, acts like he's going to kiss him on the cheek before dropping back with a giggle. Hunter flinches and when he's turning to pull his batting gloves, he can't stop the frown. Because suddenly he's wondering what this is, where he fits into things. Is he a friend, just a functioning cog of Outfielders'n'Ryan or is he also part of Pagan'n'Blanco? Is it Pagan'n'Blanco'n'Pence? Pagenceco?

He tries to reorient his brain and get his mind back in the game. When he hits the field for the bottom of the first, it's easy. Concentrate. Watch the ball, watch the runners, there's nothing but the game. The second he catches the ball that ends the first inning, it all comes flooding back. He jogs towards the dugout, cracking his gum and chewing on his lip and wondering where he stands.

Wondering if he's just some shiny new toy that they're going to get bored with. It makes him ridiculously anxious. He's never been serious about someone before and suddenly he's crazy about two someones. His life is incredibly sideways.

Is this just what the Giants franchise does to people, turn their lives inside out and bass ackwards?

“Hey, Pence... you okay?”

Hunter's head snaps up and he stares at Lincecum. “Um, yeah. Fine. Great.”

“You sure? Because you're looking a little...” He trails off and just wiggles his fingers in a weird gesture that Hunter can't quite interpret.

“Fine, good, great. Just, y'know... thinking.”

“Yeah? Well don't give yourself an aneurysm. Overthinking never goes anywhere good. Just gets in the way. Ruins things.” Lincecum says, and a passing Posey snorts and shakes his head. Lincecum glares, clenches his hands into fists and wow, Hunter really doesn't want to know. Just call him Lestrade. Not his department.

It's the top of the third and he's still frowning and he's still anxious, biting his lip hard as he reenters the dugout after his strikeout. He's grabbing his glove when he feels a hand on his shoulder. His eyes dart to the side. Pagan. Just when he starts to turn his head, Angel's lips almost brush against his ear as he whispers.

“Stop thinking so hard, stop obsessing. No, you're not a phase or some shiny new toy.”

What is this guy, freaking psychic?

“What are you, freaking psychic?”

“No.” Angel smiles against his ear and Hunter shudders. “Educated guess. Now chill out. We _want_ you. Want us to prove it? Because we can do that tonight, if you want.”

Hunter whimpers. “Yeah... yeah, okay.”

Pagan thumps him on the back before grabbing his own glove and heading out of the dug out, calling over his shoulder, “Good talk Pence, go get 'em.”

Hunter groans. The San Francisco Giants. Destroying his life and destroying his sanity one day at a time.


End file.
